insides out and leaves the void to burn. He sounds like Alisa does on her worst days, despondent and hopeless. But I’m an expert at cheering people up – hell, I pretty much perfected it during the nights beside Alisa’s hospital bed, during the nights Dad drank alone at the kitchen table at two in the morning. I take a huge breath.
“What if I don’t want it to be easy?”
He knits his eyebrows. I shrug.
“I’m not the best at people stuff. I don’t have a lot of friends now, but I used to. In elementary school. Before –” Before Mom died. “I mean, I can help you with the friend-basics at least. Show you how it works, see if we can’t get you a buddy or two.”
He watches the fire crackle. “It’s impossible.”
“Eleven years ago, people said meeting aliens was impossible, too.”
There’s a deep silence.
“Friends, huh?” Shadus murmurs. The bonfire crackles and snaps. The smile that blossoms makes him look like a different person. He looks up at me. A little bit of happiness, and the dark sadness on his face dissolves and leaves behind a boy. A boy who looks very, very human. A boy who looks hopeful .
“I’d like that,” He says.
***
Oliver Sanders is the first EVE to get kicked out of Green Hills High.
Nobody knows about it until the groundskeepers start piling his luggage in the main hall on a Wednesday afternon. Oliver stands nearby, leaning on the water fountain with his head in his hands. Oliver’s Gutter roommate pats him on the back awkwardly, but Oliver bats his hand away. His parents arrive in a green sedan looking absolutely livid but in that special tamped-down, passive-aggressive way only parents can manage. They pack his luggage in the trunk, and drive off with him looking morose in the front seat.
Nobody knows what he did, but the rumor spreads anyway. Alcohol. His roommate, two other EVEs, and Oliver were caught on the roof of the boy’s dorm with a smuggled flask of whiskey. Oliver was the only one to have taken any sips. The rumor says Oliver’s EVE organ would’ve been worth seventy thousand. And he threw that all away. The EVE clinic doctors will take it out, and he’ll get zero money. No wonder his parents looked pissed.
As I watch them go, I’m grateful more than ever that I can’t smoke anymore. Even if it means I get the shakes, and feel like vomiting all the time. Withdrawal is a small price to pay. It could’ve just as easily been me sent home if Shadus hadn’t stepped in. I do miss Mom, and the smell-memory of her. That’s a little bigger price to pay. But I pay it because no one else will.
Because I’m the only one who can help my family.
I walk up to Yulan’s office door. It’s time for my monthly EVE checkup again. Just as I’m about to knock, I notice the door is slightly cracked, and voices are filtering out. Two voices I know well.
“ – are you saying? The test results can be unreliable,” Raine hisses.
“You know just as well as I do our EVE technology is flawless. There is no mistake. Her blood says she’s reacting. After eleven years, someone is finally reacting,” Yulan’s voice whispers. There’s a long pause before Raine sighs.
“Father and his scientist groupies will be thrilled.”
“May I remind you I’m one of those ‘groupies’,” Yulan chides gently.
“Don’t play games. You’re different. You’re the only one on my side.”
“The right side,” Yulan corrects her. “The side that doesn’t want war.”
“I won’t tell father,” Raine concludes. “Keep monitoring her. Do not speak of this to anyone, especially not Taj. The Adjudicators could ruin everything if they found out.”
“And what about Shadus?”
“I’ll approach him with the news - test the waters. He’s unpredictable. He isn’t bound to the law like Taj, so we must be careful. We need him, but he’s the wildcard, and he could rob us of all our power if he chooses
“What if I don’t want it to be easy?”
He knits his eyebrows. I shrug.
“I’m not the best at people stuff. I don’t have a lot of friends now, but I used to. In elementary school. Before –” Before Mom died. “I mean, I can help you with the friend-basics at least. Show you how it works, see if we can’t get you a buddy or two.”
He watches the fire crackle. “It’s impossible.”
“Eleven years ago, people said meeting aliens was impossible, too.”
There’s a deep silence.
“Friends, huh?” Shadus murmurs. The bonfire crackles and snaps. The smile that blossoms makes him look like a different person. He looks up at me. A little bit of happiness, and the dark sadness on his face dissolves and leaves behind a boy. A boy who looks very, very human. A boy who looks hopeful .
“I’d like that,” He says.
***
Oliver Sanders is the first EVE to get kicked out of Green Hills High.
Nobody knows about it until the groundskeepers start piling his luggage in the main hall on a Wednesday afternon. Oliver stands nearby, leaning on the water fountain with his head in his hands. Oliver’s Gutter roommate pats him on the back awkwardly, but Oliver bats his hand away. His parents arrive in a green sedan looking absolutely livid but in that special tamped-down, passive-aggressive way only parents can manage. They pack his luggage in the trunk, and drive off with him looking morose in the front seat.
Nobody knows what he did, but the rumor spreads anyway. Alcohol. His roommate, two other EVEs, and Oliver were caught on the roof of the boy’s dorm with a smuggled flask of whiskey. Oliver was the only one to have taken any sips. The rumor says Oliver’s EVE organ would’ve been worth seventy thousand. And he threw that all away. The EVE clinic doctors will take it out, and he’ll get zero money. No wonder his parents looked pissed.
As I watch them go, I’m grateful more than ever that I can’t smoke anymore. Even if it means I get the shakes, and feel like vomiting all the time. Withdrawal is a small price to pay. It could’ve just as easily been me sent home if Shadus hadn’t stepped in. I do miss Mom, and the smell-memory of her. That’s a little bigger price to pay. But I pay it because no one else will.
Because I’m the only one who can help my family.
I walk up to Yulan’s office door. It’s time for my monthly EVE checkup again. Just as I’m about to knock, I notice the door is slightly cracked, and voices are filtering out. Two voices I know well.
“ – are you saying? The test results can be unreliable,” Raine hisses.
“You know just as well as I do our EVE technology is flawless. There is no mistake. Her blood says she’s reacting. After eleven years, someone is finally reacting,” Yulan’s voice whispers. There’s a long pause before Raine sighs.
“Father and his scientist groupies will be thrilled.”
“May I remind you I’m one of those ‘groupies’,” Yulan chides gently.
“Don’t play games. You’re different. You’re the only one on my side.”
“The right side,” Yulan corrects her. “The side that doesn’t want war.”
“I won’t tell father,” Raine concludes. “Keep monitoring her. Do not speak of this to anyone, especially not Taj. The Adjudicators could ruin everything if they found out.”
“And what about Shadus?”
“I’ll approach him with the news - test the waters. He’s unpredictable. He isn’t bound to the law like Taj, so we must be careful. We need him, but he’s the wildcard, and he could rob us of all our power if he chooses
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